‘I’m sure I did.’ I feel a stab of guilt. ‘I wrote it on the pad by the phone.’
But the work surface is immaculate – and empty. No pad at all. I can’t blame Agata; she’s long gone. And actually I don’t remember telling Matthew. But usually he checks his messages on the pad. All the phone calls in the house are for him generally, and I’ve never forgotten anything before.
But I haven’t told him Kaye rang either – and that is through choice. I feel really awkward about that conversation; I don’t want him to think we were in cahoots or something like that. I do think I need to mention the cutting thing to Matthew – but I have no proof, only a suspicion. I’ve looked at Scarlett’s arms every time she’s been here, but they are usually covered up.
‘What pad?’ Matthew looks at me like I’m mad. ‘We finished it didn’t we, doing shopping lists for New Year’s Eve? I keep meaning to remind you to get a new one.’
I remember that awful evening a fortnight ago, the way Luke got sauce all over everything, screaming and screaming, and I wonder – did I chuck it in the bin amidst all the drama?
‘Kaye’s having a fucking field day,’ he says before I can answer. ‘I can’t afford to give her ammunition. Not whilst we’re still waiting for custody and alimony meetings. I’m going upstairs.’
‘Sorry,’ I call after him, but he’s already on the phone to his accountant. I was going to tell him about the job, but it’s not the right time.
I seem to be digging myself in deeper without even meaning to. What a mess. My skin flames.
Thirty-Eight
Jeanie
31 March 2015
4.30 p.m.
* * *
Frankie’s out when Scarlett arrives; I’m upstairs, cleaning the bathroom. We’re not expecting her, as far as I know, and I wonder with trepidation if she’s looking for Frankie again.
‘Hi! Finish school early?’ I say as she sticks her head round the door. ‘Good day?’
She doesn’t speak but stamps down the landing, calling for her dad like a much younger child. ‘Dad, where are you? Dad-dy?’
Oh God, I think. Now what?
Matthew is in his study, working from home, as is becoming more usual.
The door clicks shut; they’re ensconced in there for a while. I finish the bath and go downstairs to surf the web, looking for new jobs. There’s something at the local adult institute I might apply for…
About half an hour later I’m just debating making them some tea when they clatter down the stairs – and leave. I assume Matthew’s taking her back to her mother’s.
When Matthew returns, twenty minutes later, he’s monosyllabic as he looks for something in the drawer.
‘Are you ready to go?’ I try for jolly. I don’t ask what might have been up with Scarlett. I kind of can’t bear to know.
‘Where?’ He stares at me like I’ve got two heads.
‘I booked tickets for the new Judi Dench film, remember?’ I try to smile at him, but I sense something is really wrong. ‘The one about living in India? I thought we could grab some noodles at—’
‘Cancel it.’ He bangs out of the room. Then he comes back. ‘Or take someone else, if you want.’
But who would I take, my dear Matthew? I’ve made no friends here yet.
I follow him out into the hall. ‘Sorry – what’s wrong?’
‘Oh come on!’ He stares at me like he doesn’t know me. Well he doesn’t really. We don’t really know each other at all. It’s becoming more obvious by the minute.
‘Please…’ I say feebly.
‘Oh, Jeanie.’ His voice is quiet; he’s calmer. We gaze at each other, and then he puts a hand out and strokes my face.
It must be going to be okay.
‘I’m not sure how much longer I can do this,’ he says, in that same soft voice.
Pain flares. ‘What do you mean?’ I ask stupidly. ‘Do what?’
‘It’s not meant to be this hard, is it, love?’ He sounds so sad, it’s heartbreaking – and it makes me think of my dad, how he left and how sad I was and how I felt it was my fault. Is it all about to happen again? My fingernails drive into my palm. ‘Maybe we’ve been foolish.’
‘No, we haven’t,’ I say, trying to hold onto his hand, so desperate for warmth from him, for his touch – but he drops it, turns away.
‘I’m going to take the twins away for a few days at the weekend.’
‘Great.’ I follow him. ‘We could go to the coast? Some sea air would do us all—’
‘Just me and them, Jeanie.’ He turns back. ‘We need to spend some time together. Me and my kids, I mean.’
‘Oh.’ It’s like a mighty slap. ‘Did I – have I done something wrong?’
Jeanie, Jeanie, Jeanie, I hear Marlena reprove. You sound like a lost child.
‘Yes well maybe I do – but then where the fuck are you, Marlena?’ I say.
I look up to see Matthew staring at me oddly.
‘Who are you talking to?’ he says.
‘No one.’ I shake my head. ‘Myself, I suppose.’